


Pocket Money

by Resevius



Category: Harry Potter — J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings of Child Abuse, Childhood, Drabble, Gen, Humanized Dursleys?, accidental magic, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resevius/pseuds/Resevius
Summary: "Harry gave a hollow laugh. "The Dursleys haven't given me pocket money for about six years`" — COS. Just a little fic while I ponder the implications.





	Pocket Money

The family of four had not separated since entering the grocery store. The larger of the two boys pulled the trolley while his mother pushed. A smaller, dark-haired boy trotted alongside, and the beefy father brought up the rear.   
"What would you like for dinner, boys?" asked Petunia Dursley, waving a hand at the shelves laden with cans.   
"It's steak night," Dudley declared, jutting out his bottom lip.   
Harry looked back at the adults, and said rather quietly, "Could we have chicken?"   
"No!" Dudley stomped his foot. "I said we're having steak tonight! We always have steak on Friday!"   
"Little tyke knows what's normal," chuckled Vernon.   
Petunia made a movement with her arm, perhaps to calm down Dudley, or even, in that split second, to comfort her nephew. But a crash made her jerk her head to the right. Her jaw dropped. Where there had been a can of spaghetti seconds ago, neatly aligned with its kin, now dripped red muck, darkening the white shelf and tile below it. The can remained upright, despite the very visible crack down one side.   
Petunia looked to her husband, and fear turned to terror as she watched his face darken to a shade of purple she hadn't seen in along time.   
"It's time to go," said Vernon, his voice barely audible.   
Looking back at her son and nephew, Petunia expected to see rage on Dudley's face. But Dudley was looking from his father to the shelf with his mouth hanging open. Harry, however, looked rather blank. Was that triumph she saw, deep in those infuriatingly green eyes?   
When they got home, Vernon wasted no time in rearranging the house. The clutter that had filled the cupboard under the stairs was sent up to the second bedroom, revealing a sad, misshapen cot. Vernon ordered his nephew inside, then pointed at the boy's trouser pocket.   
"Give me your allowance." When Harry did, his Uncle, still purple in the face, snatched it away, taking care to leave a scratch on his nephew's soft skin. "You're not worth more than this," said Vernon, gesturing at the cupboard. "We thought you'd be normal, but you're just a freak!"   
Harry never got pocket money again. That was the least of his losses.


End file.
